Drottningu OLD
by DefineNormalitee
Summary: SPOILERS! After the fight at Feinster, Arya discovers that she has feelings for Eragon. However, competition comes from unlikely places...
1. Chapter 1

Arya leant over the fire she was building, seemingly intent on her work. But her mind wandered… Eragon was no more than two feet away, and she was hyper-aware of it. Too aware.

_This is ridiculous. _She scowled darkly, casting the flint in her hand away from her as hard as she could. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Eragon look up at her with concern from the book he was reading, but he did not speak. It frustrated her to know that she had hoped he would speak to her, but she also knew that he would not; he probably accounted her bad mood to not being allowed to use magic. Nasuada had forbidden it; she wished for all her spell casters to refrain from the use of magic, as they may be forced into battle at any time and needed their energy. _Pah, _she thought angrily, and abandoned her work along with her resolve not to look at Eragon again.

Eragon was too absorbed in his book to notice her sudden, intense gaze upon him. She smiled; she knew many a man who would give their swords to own a book, and he was given one for free! It amused her to see him so happy with such a simple gift. She would have to get him one, soon-

_Stop this, now, _she thought, angry with herself. _It's bad enough that you keep staring at him… _she groaned, gritting her teeth. Eragon looked down at her with annoyance at being disturbed, which soon changed to confusion as he caught her staring at him. "Is something wrong, Arya?"

She carefully composed her facial expression into one of calm and composure. "No. Nothing."

He paused for a moment, obviously confused, but nodded and returned to his book. _It must be a good one, _she smirked, observing the joy on his face. She watched him for several minutes, regarding his face changing. She hastily looked away as his expression turned to pure horror, and it was so comical that she had to look away, biting her lip lest that she should laugh out loud and be discovered staring.

_Lady Arya?_

Arya jumped as Saphira's tentative mind touched her blatantly and dangerously open one. She hastened to close her mind, cursing herself for dropping her guard so much.

_Yes, Lady Brightscales?_

_Are you feeling quite alright?_

Saphira showed her a vision of herself, watching Eragon with a strange expression on her heart shaped face. Arya cringed as she acknowledged that the dragon had been watching her for several minutes, now.

_Yes, perfectly fine._

Saphira blinked her great, blue eyes, and continued to watch her. Then: _Arya, would you please rouse Eragon for me? I cannot reach his thoughts- he is intent on nothing but that blasted book!_

Arya laughed, and nodded. Relieved to turn away from Saphira's watchful eyes, she got up and strode over to Eragon. Once again, he looked up with annoyance at being disturbed. Once again, Arya watched the emotions on his face… change… but what to? She was transfixed for several moments, her eyes lost in his…

_ERAGON!_

Eragon leaped to his feet, drawing his weapon, as Saphira called his name. Arya struggled not to laugh as he tripped over the book he had dropped moments before and fell to her feet, blinking owlishly. Laugh! Her! Princess Arya, laughing! She would never normally laugh so easily, and she knew exactly where the change lay.

With the boy at her feet.

_Eragon, get away from that blasted book and come scouting with me. I've sat here long enough!_

As Eragon struggled to stand, Arya offered him her hand. He looked at it for a moment, obviously confused, before taking it. As soon as he was on his feet and able to stand, Arya dropped it. She heard him exit the tent, but said nothing…

_Oh, no._

Arya Svitkona was in love with the last free dragon Rider.

_Where are we going, little one?_

_Anywhere you like!_

With a roar of delight, Saphira launched herself into the perfectly blue sky. Warriors below yelled and dived out of the way as she moved her giant wings in synchronization to the beating of Eragon's heart.

_To the lake!_

Eragon's fierce joy matched her own as they moved as one across the sky, reveling in the freedom their movements gave them. Eragon laughed as Nasuada pushed her way out of her tent to see what the noise was, pushing over several of her guards.

_Hang on. I want to go and see Nasuada._

With a grumble, Saphira dived to the ground once more. Several of Nasuada's guards yelped and jumped out of the way, but the woman they protected stood her ground and watched the magnificent blue dragon land.

"Eragon, Saphira; to what do I owe the pleasure?" Nasuada called to them, approaching the pair.

"We're on our way to the lake on the mountainside, and wondered if you could spare a moment to join us." Saphira's surprise matched Nasuada'a as the words tumbled out of Eragon's mouth.

_Where did that come from, little one?!_

"Um…" Nasuada glanced back into her tent anxiously. Then, with a smile, she leaped onto Saphira's back and clasped her arms around Eragon's waist.

"Fly, Saphira!"

Nasuada's laughter rang out over the sound of Saphira's wings, and Eragon found himself listening intently to the beautiful sound as they made their way to the nearby mountain lake.

"It looks freezing."

Eragon and Nasuada stood at the side of the wintery- looking lake, debating whether or not to venture into it.

_You chickens!_

Saphira teased them from the middle of the lake, where she had spent the last hour whilst Eragon and Nasuada dipped their toes into the freezing water and shivered on the bank.

"I think we should… get in…?"

Eragon shivered at the thought, but held his chin up and nodded. He held out his hand.

She took it.

They ran, laughing, and threw themselves off the bank into the icy water.

**AN: Yeah, I know it's not the best fic you've ever read, but… meh. Please review! Please!!! Large, sparkly Saphira shaped cookies to anyone who does!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I've received a few questions, so I'll answer them here (meh, I can't be bothered to reply to everyone!):**

**1)Isn't everyone a bit out of character?** **Even if Arya realied  
that she had deeper feelings for eragon. I think that she would be able to  
control them a bit more.**

**Nobody is perfect, least of all Arya. She has had much to deal with in the last few years, and it's changed her; even elves can't control every emotion they feel, and I imagine love is hardest of all to conceal. **

**2)Isn't the fact that Nasuada left with Eragon without any guards a little improbable?**

**Everyone needs freedom. Nasuada most of all. She finds it hard to work with the number of guards that she has, as mentioned in Brisingr, so it is understandable that she might forget about them for an hour or so. Anyway, Saphira was with them.**

**3)Even if Eragon had given up on Arya, would he really risk falling in love with someone who is immortal?**

**You can't help who you fall in love with. Anyway, who said he would fall for someone mortal? I have some twists up my sleeve, ladies… ;)**

**Anyway, on with the show! **

Eragon woke to the sound of horns.

_Saphira? _He thought, groggily reaching for Brisingr and his clothes. He paused, his pulse racing when he received no answer. _Saphira! SAPHIRA!_

_Quiet, Eragon, _she snapped back, causing him to sigh in relief as he continued getting dressed. _Wait your turn._

When he was emerging from his tent, fully clothed and Brisingr at his belt, Saphira replied at last. This time, her tone was a little softer. _Sorry, little one. Arya was attaching my armour._

Blinking in the bright morning sun, Eragon frowned. Armour? Indeed, when his eyes were accustomed to the light, he saw many men in their armour, running towards the Northern gates, and the war drums began to sound. Groaning, Eragon asked Saphira: _Where are you?_

_Outside Nasuada's tent. Hurry, little one._

Eragon began to run, ignoring all shouts of "Shadeslayer!" and general calls to him as he made his way to Nasuada's tent. Saphira greeted him with a nod as he saw her waiting outside, and he noted how she was already completely clad in her glinting, rustling armour. He smiled in response. His heart battered against his ribcage as he also spotted Arya, her back to him. She scanned the crowd in front of her as he came to a stop behind her. "Where is Eragon?" She asked, a hint of concern tainting her musical voice. He laughed, and she spun around in shock. Yet again, he undiminished beauty knocked the breath out of him; her long, brown, silken hair was loose, and it curled around her heart shaped face, framing it perfectly; her pouting red lips formed an uneasy smile, which Eragon joyfully returned. "Where have you been, Shadeslayer? The battle is about to begin." Eragon opened his mouth to reply, but Nasuada strode out of her crimson tent and the pair looked over to greet her. However, Nasuada wasted no time in early morning pleasantries.

"Has Arya filled you in?" She demanded, buckling her sword to her belt with difficulty. Eragon shook his head, moving forward to complete the task for her. She shifted uneasily, but spoke hurriedly and confidently. "A troop of four hundred approach the Northern gate. Amongst them are archers, swordsmen and spearsmen."

He nodded, stepping back from her. "Are they… can they be killed?"

"We don't know. But we're taking no chances."

She nodded at both him and Arya and made to dispatch, but Eragon caught her arm. Leaning down to speak in her ear, he said; "My lady, I don't think you should be fighting in your… current condition." He indicated her arms, which were still scarred from the Trial of The Long Knives.

She smiled, prising her arm away from him gently. "I shall be fine. Elva has predicted it." Eragon smiled, and turned back to Arya. "Oh, and Eragon?" He turned to Nasuada again, puzzled. "Stay safe." And then she was gone.

An hour later, Eragon and Saphira found themselves once more on the front line of the Varden's troops.

_Here we go again, _Eragon thought. Saphira answered him with a rumbling growl of excitement.

Arya, to his left, remained staring ahead with her keen eyes, never taking her eyes from the advancing forces that threatened to beseech them. Nasuada, to his right, arranged last minute strategies and spoke with her troops, but never left Eragon's side. All around him were men, Elves, Urgals and Dwarves. _Just think, Saphira, _Eragon thoughr, _we must be setting some sort of record. Six races fighting under one banner!_

This Saphira acknowledged with a fierce rush of pride. _If only we could persuade the worms and beetles to fight with us, too. Then we would be wiping all records out of existence!_

Eragon laughed, but the sound was shaky and uneasy. Arya looked up at him for the first time since they had arrived. "Be not afraid, Shadeslayer. We cannot fail."

"I am not scared of our failure. I am scared of what we might loose in the process of winning." Arya inclined her head slightly, and resumed her staring. This time, a strange sort of determination crossed over her flawless features. Frowning, Eragon looked ahead once more.

_What is it, little one?_

_Do you know what troubles Arya? She seems so much more… I don't know. But it worries me, nonetheless._

Before Saphira could answer, Nasuada leant across her horse to speak with Eragon. The fierce light of battle was strong in her hazel eyes. "Good luck, Eragon, Saphira, although I know you will not need it."

Smiling, Eragon inclined his head. "Stay safe," he told her sternly.

"I will," she replied simply. Then Arya, from his other side, cleared her throat pointedly, and Eragon faced her.

"Stay safe," she murmured, her piercing eyes holding his as she quoted him in the Ancient language, "Wiol pomnuria ilian."

For my happiness.

Eragon continued to stare at her long after she had turned away. And then the war horns sounded. Once. Twice.

And then, they fought.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you guys so much on the reviews- the really speed up my work. I just want to answer a few questions:**

**1)Will there be a catfight?**

**As much as the idea appeals to me, no. However, I am in the process of writing up the catfight, and it will appear on my profile separately as soon as it is done.**

**2)Did you not know that Arya's hair is black?**

**Um… oops?**

**3)Why was the last chapter so short?**

**Because it took me ages to write up the battle scene, and I didn't want to rush it. Sorry- I will try to make this one longer.**

**I will be rewriting this, so keep the suggestions coming! Now… on with the show!**

* * *

It took Eragon a moment to remember where he was; one second, his head was full of thoughts of Arya- the next, they were even more confused than normal by the mass of war cries and the sound of bow strings being released that filled the air.

_Concentrate, Eragon! _Saphira bellowed mentally.

_Sorry/ Let us fly! _He replied hastily, drawing Brisingr. Saphira leapt from the ground with a joyful roar, giving the nearby members of the Varden a momentary advantage as their opponents looked up and cried out in terror at the sight.

Eragon watched the fighting from above as Saphira circled the battleground, occasionally loosing an arrow in the direction of an enemy or dipping to the ground to help a friend in need. About half an hour into the battle, Eragon saw Roran frowning in concentration as he tackled three men at a time. Longing to fight beside his cousin once more, Eragon leapt off a disgruntled Saphira and engaged one of the men fighting Roran. Roran acknowledged him with a quick nod, but never took his eyes from his opponent. When he had felled both of them with two ferocious knocks of his hammer to their heads, he turned to face his cousin, although both men looked to the surrounding fighting, wary. "I make that… nineteen. You?"

"Ha! Four-and-twenty!" Eragon crowed.

Roran opened his mouth to answer, his eyes narrowed, but at that moment Saphira landed before to the two of them. Her eyes glinted angrily.

_What do you think you are playing at? This is not a place for idle chatter and contests! This is a battle ground! _She roared, and swept Eragon off the ground with her teeth, swinging him onto her back. Eragon looked down at his cousin to apologise, shamefaced, but Roran was already engaged. Saphira took flight immediately, beating her sapphire wings furiously.

_Sorry, Saphira. I-_

_Leave it! Nasuada requires your assistance._

A thrill of fear grasped Eragon with those words, and he gripped Brisingr tightly. _What was I doing?! _He wondered. _Making idle conversation whilst my friends suffered! _Shock and frustration swept through him, making him shiver. He surveyed the fighting below him once more; Arya fought ferociously with several men, her long thin sword a blur in the morning light as she twirled, whipping the blade through the air. Eragon felt a pang of worry, but soon dismissed it- Arya was more than capable to deal with the mere mortals below. He almost felt sorry for the men.

As Saphira pressed on, Eragon felt a lone mind fighting furiously against the walls in his head. Panicking, he fought back, but soon abated as he recognised the voice as Blodhgarm's. _About time, _the elf thought, a little testily. _I have been trying to reach you for some time now! Nasuada is in desperate need of help._

_We're on our way, _Eragon assured him.

_Good to hear it, Shadeslayer. _The elf seemed to hesitate slightly, but continued. _Stay safe. For Ar- all our sake's._

A little puzzled, Eragon agreed, shielding his mind once more as Blodhgarm withdrew.

_What was that about? _He asked Saphira.

_I don't know, but we're nearly there. Hold on!_

Eragon gripped Saphira's saddle tightly as she dived towards the ground. From there, he soon spotted Nasuada; her guards lay slain around her, and she was surrounded by a number of attackers. Although she was skilled with the sword, she was no match for all of the ten men that approached her.

With a fierce war cry, Eragon thrust Brisingr into the air. The men below looked up at him in horror, and Nasuada took this lapse of concentration to her advantage, stabbing one man through the chest before he knew what was happening. Eragon leapt off Saphira and stood back to back with Nasuada as Saphira let out a burst of flame in the direction of four of the attackers nearest her; the jet of blue flame blinded the rest of them momentarily, but Nasuada, who had her back to Saphira, lunged forward and plunged her sword into a man's chest, causing him to scream with pain. Eragon hurriedly muttered a spell that would help him to regain his sight and together he and Nasuada disposed of the rest of the soldiers.

Panting, the two looked up at each other, the adrenalin pulsing through both of them clear in their eyes. Eragon offered Nasuada his hand, and she took it. He helped her up on to Saphira, and they flew.

* * *

From below, Arya Svitkona watched with dismay as the pair flew away from the battle. Was it just her, or was Eragon's arm clasped much too tightly around Nasuada's waist? She looked away, grinding her teeth.

God help the next mortal that challenged her today…

* * *

"Where are we going?" Nasuada yelled above the wind.

"Back to the fight, of course!" Eragon replied. Nasuada nodded, and they grasped their weapons once more. Saphira landed- knocking several men into the air with her wings and tail as she did so- and Nasuada climbed down. She smiled sweetly at her rescuers, despite the danger of their situation.

"Stay safe," she called to Eragon, and ran back into the fray.

After the battle, members of the Varden scoured the battle field fo

* * *

r survivors and the wounded; Arya was among them. She grasped the hands of those whose wounds she or any healer could not heal, and sang to them softly in the Ancient language. Soon, their grimaces turned to expressions of happiness and peace, and they closed their eyes for the last time. She alerted the Varden's healers to those who would have a chance of survival with her mind, and they sent the unscathed to the battleground to escort them to the healer's tent. This process seemed to last hours to Arya. _It always does._

Normally, the high ranking members in the Varden (Nasuada, Arya, Eragon and others) would meet in Nasuada's tent after a fight, to discuss strategies and survey the cost the battle had had on them, but today several of those people were injured or speaking with their people, so the meeting was postponed. Rather than sit around waiting for something to do, Arya had volunteered her services Nasuada.

Nasuada had seemed all too happy to have her out of the way.

She sighed, rocking back onto her heels and wiping blood from her fingers as she examined the fourth surviving man she had found. _He'll live, _she decided, and contacted the Varden. _I've found another. Send help._

The reply was instant. _Of course, Lady Arya._

There was nothing to do now but wait, she supposed.

* * *

"Eragon! Eragon!" Eragon turned, slightly wary, as his name was called. He inclined his head to Blodhgarm as he approached. "Another survivor has been found. Would you mind…?"

Sighing, Eragon agreed and climbed wearily onto Saphira's back once more. _After this, bed, _she decided. Eragon happily agreed.

Saphira threw herself into the sky tiredly, and they made their way towards the battleground and the survivor.

* * *

It had been five minutes now, and the survivor was getting cold. He frowned and whimpered in pain, no matter how much Arya tried to sooth him. Frustrated, the elf looked up to see where the man's saviour's were, flushing angrily as she automatically looked towards the skies. _Stop that, now, _she berated herself. _Stop thinking about him!_

Grinding her teeth, she looked up once again, only to have her jaw drop as she saw…

_Eragon! Oh no, oh no… _

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Arya tried to still her frantically beating heart. When that failed, she sighed, and resigned herself to wait for her rescuers.

Saphira landed as softly as she could, and Eragon climbed down from her back. He ran towards the casualty, but stopped as he noticed Arya standing over him, watching Eragon approach. Forcing his limbs to respond, he walked towards the man and his rescuer as calmly as he could.

Behind him, Saphira rolled her eyes.

"Um, thank you, Arya." Eragon lifted the man easily- but not at all gently. His eyes were still on the elf before him. She smiled, and he smiled in response before turning towards Saphira again. Arya's arm caught his, and he turned back to her.

"Thank you." She said simply.

"For what?"

"For staying safe."

Before he could reply, Arya put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him chastely on the lips once before turning and running towards the next man.

**AN: Well, tell me what you think! This chapter was a little longer, but I'm not so sure I like this one. It needs work, definitely, but I'm not sure what needs doing… let me know! All suggestions are welcome!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all so, so much for all of the lovely reviews! Well, almost all of them were lovely. I'll just say this; criticism is only nice if it is constructive. Don't just start accusing me randomly of random things, offer me some ideas for when I edit this. Also, one of you- I won't mention any names- (*cough* du vrangr draumr *cough*) needs to learn how to spell…**

* * *

"_Thank you." She said simply._

"_For what?"_

"_For staying safe."_

_Before he could reply, Arya put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him chastely on the lips once before turning and running towards the next man._

**Ten minutes before**

"Um, Blodhgarm?" A timid healer approached the agitated wolf-elf, and he spun around. His lips barely concealed the half formed snarl that rose in his throat. The woman, dressed in a white apron that was stained crimson with blood, shrank back in terror. She pressed on bravely. "We're, um, ready for our next patient now."

Blodhgarm arranged his lips into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. He'll be right in."

The healer gave a hurried curtsey and scurried away from him, glancing over her shoulder nervously. Blodhgarm sighed and strode out of the tent, where any survivors were being taken to receive emergency medical aid. Upon leaving the shelter, he looked up at the evening sky. It was quite spectacular, he had to admit: the blue canvas that separated the earth from whatever lay beyond was unblemished, with not a cloud in sight, and skylarks flitted playfully across it, singing joyfully and carelessly. Beautiful as this place was, however, Blodhgarm missed trees. The trees of Ellesmera Forest were in his blood. He needed them, and he needed the magical whispers that held their secrets as the wind breathed through their emerald leaves gently. More than anything, he needed home.

But Blodhgarm was a warrior, and he knew he could not submit to his weaknesses so easily. Shadeslayer and Brightscales needed him- not to mention Princess Arya. No, he knew he must stay.

"Lord Blodhgarm?" The soft hand of his Elvin comrade, Sareal, rested hesitantly on his shoulder. "Are… are you alright?"

"Yes," he replied firmly. Now was not the time to be thinking of home. The hand was removed. Blodhgarm frowned. "But where on earth is Eragon?"

* * *

"Does it hurt?"

Roran winced as Katrina peeled the shirt from his aching back, no matter how gentle she tried to be. _I was a fool not to accept Gertrude's offer of bandages, _he was forced to admit, gritting his teeth. Nevertheless, he knew that he had been right to decline; bandages would have laboured his movements and stopped him from moving as quickly as he did. Without bandages, he had been able to move freely, but the scabs on his back from the flogging had cracked open again, drenching him in blood. Now that his armour was off, Katrina had been horrified to note that the scabs, barely healed, had healed over Roran's thin undershirt. Now, she attempted to peel off his shirt without causing him un-nessacery pain.

It wasn't working.

"I should do it quickly, if I were you," Elain, ready at the mouth of the tent with bandages and herbs, advised Katrina. "It will hurt less in the long run."

Katrina nodded and gripped the hem of Roran's shirt with both hands. Tears of her husband's pain welled in her eyes. "Ready, love? One- two-"

Roran gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes up.

"THREE!"

* * *

"Where is Eragon?" Nasuada demanded, completing another length of her tent. She had been striding up and down her crimson room since she had returned to it, and had no intention to stop.

Her maid, Farica, stepped forward from where she stood at the edge of Nasuada's bed. "My Lady, I expect he is resting in his tent- as you should be-"

"Farica, I have no desire to rest until I know whether or not Lord Eragon is safe!" The maid hurried back into the corner, her head bowed. Nasuada continued to stride restlessly. Her armour hindered her, and she pulled at it, irritated. Farica stumbled forward to free her from it, then retreated into her corner. Sighing, Nasuada approached the door and leant her head above the wooden frame. _Where is he?_

Then, with a sudden cry of delight that sent Farica running towards her, Nasuada smiled as she spotted Saphira fly across the slowly darkening sky, Eragon perched upon her back. _He is safe! _Nasuada sighed in relief. Soon he would return to her…

* * *

"I am so, so sorry, love!" Katrina stroked her husband's tousled hair, her tears dropping silently and steadily onto the nape of his neck. Elain and Gertrude were attending to his back, but he winced all the while. Each wince sent Katrina into a new torrent of grief and anger for Roran. The sight of her loved one in pain made her tears fall ever more freely.

"I am fine, love. Don't trouble yourself," Roran smiled weakly, but in Katrina's eyes it looked more like a grimace. Behind them, Gertrude attended to his wounds as fast as she could, but they would not heal fast enough.

_Where is Eragon?_

* * *

Nasuada had changed hurriedly into a dress, and waited for Eragon to return to her. Her patience was wearing thin.

_Where is Eragon?_

* * *

Blodhgarm stormed through the camp, ignoring the members of the Varden that stared at him. He made his way to the bank that overlooked the stretch of earth before the Northern gate that had today been their battleground. Upon reaching it, he leaped onto it and his Elvin eyes raked the battlefield before him. It was not hard to spot Eragon; Elvin sight or no, the giant Sapphire dragon that accompanied him was never hard to make out from a distance. Arya stood before him, and the injured man lay in his arms.

Blodhgarm turned to leave, but something held him in his place. His Elvin ears had no trouble on hearing the conversation that took place almost a league away.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For staying safe."

And then the wolf-elf watched in absolute horror as Arya, Princess Arya, the last heir to his Queen's throne, kissed Eragon, the last free Rider.

For a moment, Blodhgarm remained frozen in shock- as, it seemed, Eragon did also. Then, he regained his wits.

_Sareal? _He thought frantically.

_Yes, Lord Blodhgarm?_

_Contact Queen Islazandi._

He watched the Princess run from Eragon, shock clear on both of their faces.

_Tell her it's an emergency._


	5. Chapter 5

"My Queen, I…" Blodhgarm sighed and ran his fingers through his midnight-blue fur. The Queen, watching him with hawk-eyes from the small mirror in her tent by which they communicated, frowned.

"I have neither the energy nor the patience to guess your words before you speak them, Blodhgarm, so please; speak!"

Blodhgarm inclined his head. "It is difficult to know… where to begin, Your Majesty."

"Start with the reason why you feel the need to disturb me now, in the middle of the night, with no warning whatsoever and hints of an 'emergency'!"

The elf-wolf flinched, and spoke in a fast, low tone. "You wished for me to report on any… strange happenings whilst here with the Varden. Anything that Arya might not think to mention."

The Queen remained unmoving. With a sigh, Blodhgarm told her what he had seen.

At the end of her spell caster's tale, Queen Islazandi remained as still as a rock. When she forced out her words, they were hurried and urgent; "Fetch Arya."

* * *

"Anyone in?" Roran waved his hand in front of his cousin's face amusedly. Eragon blinked, forcing a smile.

"Sorry."

"Hmm… Anyway, how many?" Eragon blinked. "Did you kill? How many men did you kill? I counted mine at at least five-and-sixty."

Eragon frowned. "I thought it bothered you, killing these men? And now you count them like we would crops at the farm?"

Roran's reply was fiery and defensive. "I do what I must, Eragon. I must defend my wife and… child. If that means killing the men who pose a threat to them, so be it! I will defend Katrina."

"Yes, but…" Eragon's frown deepened. "You make a contest out of them! A game!"

"I do whatever I can to make my task easier, Eragon. And if a contest helps me defend my wife, who are you to argue?"

Eragon placed his hand on Roran's shoulder, looking into his brown eyes. "Your cousin," he said softly. "And you would do well to stop this game, now, before you become yet another bloodthirsty warrior."

Roran shuddered at the thought, and nodded. The two cousins lapsed into thoughtful silence as they stared out over the deserted camp that was their home; it was long since past dusk, and finding that neither of them could sleep Roran and Eragon had pulled a bench to where they sat now, observing the stars. Roran, after some time, absent-mindedly bent to the ground and picked up a small pebble. He placed it in his palm and frowned at it in concentration. "Stenr Reisa!"

Nothing happened.

With a growl of frustration, Roran attempted to lift the stone again… and again… and again. When he failed to lift the stone for the tenth time, he lost all patience and cast it onto the ground.

"It's no good! I'll never get it!"

He folded his arms, in such a childlike position that Eragon might once have laughed at; Roran's brow knitted together in agitation, and even his bottom lip stuck out. However, Eragon did not make a sound.

Turning to face his cousin, Roran observed his face with worried eyes. Eragon's eyes stared into the distance, but when his cousin turned to see what he was looking at he saw nothing- only black.

"Hello? Eragon?" Once more, Roran waved his hand in front of Eragon's face. Eragon smiled apologetically and tore his gaze from whatever had captivated it.

"Sorry, Roran. I'm just tired, I suppose." He yawned innocently to prove his point. Roran, however, remained unconvinced.

"No, you aren't! Well, maybe you are, but that isn't what is bothering you, I'm sure of it. Is there something on your mind, Eragon?" Roran watched his cousins face intently and carefully. "Women? Fighting?" Then, remembering their conversation at Helgrind, he spoke softer than ever before; "Arya?"

Eragon flinched and looked away. Roran leaned back, his smugness clear on his face. "Arya," he announced triumphantly. Eragon did not answer. His smugness fading rapidly, Roran gripped his cousin's shoulder and forced him to turn. When Eragon faced him, his eyes were full of despair and hopelessness that Roran had never seen the likes of- not in Eragon's eyes, anyway. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"I can read you like a book, Eragon!"

"You can't even read!" Eragon countered, hoping to distract his cousin.

"No, but I can tell when you are lying to me. Tell me!"

Eragon sighed in defeat. _It would be nice to tell _someone, he supposed. He looked his cousin deep in his eyes. "You must swear never to tell a soul. Not even Katrina."

Roran nodded, his eyes wide. "I swear."

Eragon told him what had happened.

For a long time, Roran stared into the distance with his mouth wide open.

"Oh."

"Oh," Eragon agreed.

* * *

Arya was woken with a hesitant touch to her shoulder. With one shuddering gasp, her eyes flew open and in one smooth, quick movement she had her 'attacker' pinned against the wall of her tent, a knife at his throat.

"Arya Drottningu!" Gasped the elf she had attacked. She released him immediately, sheathing her knife.

"My apologies, Sareal-vodhr. You… I thought…"

"No apology needed, Drottningu," the elf said, massaging his neck. "One can never be too careful in these dangerous times."

"Indeed…" For a moment, Arya sighed, recalling to memory the times when one did not need to carry a sword everywhere they went, or be as careful with their words as they would with a hungry dragon with no other means of food. "Why did you wake me?"

Sareal looked slightly abashed. He averted his gaze, staring at the floor instead of into her emerald eyes.

"Your mother wishes to speak with you."

Arya strode into Blodhgarm's tent cautiously, nodding her head to the wolf-elf whose head turned in her direction when she entered. For some reason unbeknown to the princess, Blodhgarm too looked slightly abashed and ashamed. However, he met Arya's eyes with determination as he greeted her in the traditional Elvin manner.

When Arya had given the expected response, Blodhgarm exited the tent without a glance backward at her. Puzzled, Arya watched him disappear into the darkness before turning to greet the woman who watched her intently from the mirror on the wall.

Her mother.

"Did you not know, Arya," the Queen spoke softly and urgently, "that Blodhgarm saw what happened yesterday on the battlefield before the Northern gate? That he thought immediately- and rightly- to contact me with the knowledge that you, my daughter…" Queen Islazandi paused, at a loss for words. "Are in love with the last free Rider?"

Arya's face hardened, but her heart leapt inside her chest. _I should have thought before I… before I kissed him! Eragon is but a boy! _Thinking this through, Arya would have to admit that she was wrong: Eragon had aged- both physically and mentally- since she had rejected his love at the Agaetí Blödhren. "No, I did not know," she answered finally.

"Obviously." The Queen regarded her only daughter with a firm eye- which Arya met easily with her now cold ones. "Did we not speak of this, my daughter?" The Queen whispered uneasily. "You have changed- you laugh more easily, you smile more easily… you show your emotions more than is nessacery. Emotion is weakness, my child! Emotion hinders us. We need to be able to make objective decisions that do not include out emotions. We need not to offer our opponents our weaknesses on a plate, as you are doing!"

Arya turned away from her mother, but she had to admit that she was right. Love, hate, pleasure, pain… all weaknesses that Galbatorix could use against her. Sensing her victory, the Queen pressed on. "I have seen these changes occur once before, Arya. And that time, it did not end well for any concerned."

_Faolin…_

Arya could not help but let several tears seep from under her closed eyelids- the first and only time she had cried for her lost love. _Stop this, now, _She berated herself, wiping her tears away.

From the mirror, the Queen watched her daughter cry with growing unease and wished that she did not have to remind her daughter of the pain that she had suffered… so recently. However much she wished, a release did not come, so she continued with a sigh. "You must not allow this love to grow."

Helpless to her mother and Queen's demand, Arya nodded. More tears escaped her.

"Swear it."

With a gasp, Arya spoke firmly in the Ancient language; "Wiol ono."

For you.

**

* * *

**

AN: Well, whaddaya think? Longer this time… took me ages to write! Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. REVIEW!

**Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!**

**Arya x**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Alright, I'm stuck. Utterly and completely stuck. That's why this is so bad and short... sorry! If anyone has any ideas for me, I'd love to hear them. Help!**

* * *

The expected meeting of the Varden 'elders' to discuss the recent battle took place early in the morning of the next day. As usual, they met in Nasuada's tent to discuss strategies and the effect the fight had had on them. What was not so normal, however, was that Eragon was the first in the tent.

"Eragon," Nasuada smiled gleefully, rising from where she was sat on the edge of her bed. Eragon returned the smile and approached her.

"I wondered if I might ask you something, my Lord," she said hesitantly, her eyes not on Eragon's but rather on the hem of her dress' sleeve, which she picked at. Eragon caught her hand and she stopped.

"Ask me anything. I have no secrets from you," he replied, amused by her apparent nervousness.

"Well-"

"Lady Nasuada!"

The pair broke apart to look at the tent door as Arya, Blodhgarm and Jormondur appeared at it, pushing aside the folds of material. Jormondur limped forward, placing looking at Nasuada before sitting. When she nodded, smiling graciously, he sat, and Nasuada indicated that everyone else should be seated.

Nasuada took the seat to Eragon's right. Arya took the one to his left.

* * *

Queen Islanadi stared into the basin of water her maid had collected moments before. Plunging her hands into it, she splashed her face and rubbed vigorously. She knew that she was trying to erase the events of the night before, and this irritated her; _I am a Queen! I should be able to carry out meaningless tasks without it troubling me for days to pass!_

But the Queen knew that this was no meaningless task; she had broken the heart of her only daughter. And that, to any parent, is never meaningless.

As the Queen stared back into the pool once more, watching the ripples smooth themselves slowly until the basin's surface resembled a glassy pond, she realised what she had to do. It would be easy, for her- for Arya, it would mean more pain... the concept of causing her daughter more pain made the Queen quite uneasy, but she had to do it. To save Arya from herself...

"Bring me Nienna," she called to her maid.

* * *

Arya could not concentrate. The words that Jormondur was speaking were of vital importance to the Varden and to the Elves, she knew, but they held no meaning to her. Not when Eragon sat beside her.

_This is ridiculous! _She frowned, and tried once more to cast all thoughts of the dragon Rider next to her out of her head once more- once more, to no avail. With an internal sigh, she succumbed to her thoughts.

_I should not have kissed him, _she thought fiercely- but this time, her anger was enveloped in some sort of grief. She mourned. She mourned Faolin, and all that he had taken to the grave along with him; she mourned Oromis and Glaedr; and most of all, although it sickened her to admit, she mourned the love that she was burdened with. The love that would not grow. Could not grow.

Arya could not help but curse her mother for the decision she had made, but knew that she was right in all that she had said; _emotion weakens us. I would be a fool to let it weaken me- especially in my current position of power. I do it for Ellesmera. _And with that thought Arya fought off a strange rush of fierce pride. It mingled with the grief that she held within her, and she acknowledged that.

_This is who I am. This is what I have to be._

_This is what my mother is! Not I! _She countered herself.

_I will one day be in her position. I will one day have to judge as dispassionately and unpredjudiced as she. Why not save myself the heartache and start now?_

Arya groaned inwardly and wished that she was back in Ellesmera where she belonged.

* * *

Eragon fidgeted. Try as he must, he could not concentrate on the speech that Jordomur was giving: he could focus only on the two women on either side of him. Every few minutes, he would glance at each one; both woman and elf focused intently on the speaker, shaming him. They ridiculed him with their proffesionality as he floundered with his personal matters.

_Leave this, now! _He ordered himself angrily. _More desperate matters are at hand than... than a meaningless kiss on the battlefield!_

This revelation left Eragon quitedownhearted; was it meaningless? Had Arya really intended for that kiss to be nothing more than a friendly exchange?

_I'm sure it's part of some sort of elf ritual, _he assured his better half, the half of him which did not want to dwell on such trivia when more important things were at stake. But try as he might to convince himself, he was sure that he had not read or been taught anything about Elves kissing one another, even as a symbol of grattitude and friendship, whilst he was with Brom or Oromis.

His worse side, the side that wished to relive and revisit that scene on the battlefront over and over no matter the consequences, gloated at this. Eragon groaned inwardly, and wished that he was back in Palancar Valley where he belonged.

* * *

Nasuada itched at the scars at her wrist, wincing as she did so. As important as the speech Jormodur was giving was- well, she thought it was- she could not for the life of her concentrate on it. Not with Eragon next to her. She kept her eyes on Jormodur all the while, and it gave her great satisfaction to note that Eragon kept taking sideways glances at her. He looked at Arya, too, which annoyed her somewhat, but deep down she knew that if this came to a contest for the Rider's love, she would win- of course he was attracted to Arya, the shiny trinket that all men gazed upon. But she was no mere trinket; pretty, yes, but also joyful and wise and, most of all, warm. Not like the elf.

She sighed with contentment that she would soon win his heart, and wished to be nowhere else other than where she was.

* * *

Jormodur smiled to himself: he could not have asked for a more riveted audience. All four of them stared right at him, there eyes glazed with empathy and enthusiasm as he told them his strategies for the next battle. His chest jutted out with pride and he wished that his wife were here to see him now...

* * *

**Well, whaddaya think? I'm not entirely sure what the Queen should do with Nienna. I think she should be sent to the Varden to watch over Arya, under the cover of assisting her, but what she gets up to there... I don't know... any ideas?**

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you so much to those reviewers who came up with ideas for Nienna. I'll probably use all of them…**

**Sorry it's so short- I wanted to leave you on an evil cliffhanger (mwahahahaha!!).**

**This chapter is for Tom, who sang me the song that inspired some of this chapter. Ta, duck!**

**On with the show!!**

* * *

_Little one, I am going scouting. Come with me?_

Eragon looked up from the fire that he had been staring at whilst Saphira slept, into her fiery-blue eyes; he glanced away quickly, knowing that if he allowed her to tempt him he could not deny her. And there was something that he really needed to do…

_No… I am tired. Perhaps tomorrow?_

She agreed happily- if a little suspiciously- and made her way to the sparring ring to take off. Nasuada had asked that she only fly in an open area, and not near any of the tent's that littered the Varden's camp: it would be all too easy for Eragon's great dragon to clip a tent pole with one of her large wings, or to knock something flying with the torrent of wind she caused whenever she moved her wings.

Smiling wryly, he watched her out of sight before returning his gaze to the flames that flickered hungrily before him with a sigh. Reluctantly acknowledging the fact that he had to speak with Arya before the night was over, get this all over and done with, he pushed himself off the ground with a throb of nervous excitement and trudged in the direction of Arya's tent.

On the way there, partly to occupy his mind and partly to convince himself that he was doing the right thing, he kept up an endless flow of arguments to support his decision: one, he had to know if the kiss had been a mistake on her behalf, or perhaps a misunderstanding: two, he needed to know where this… event left the two of them, and how their relationship would continue- if at all: three, he wanted- no, needed to know if… if she felt the same way as he did…

With a start, Eragon realized that he was outside Arya's tent. Hesitantly, he raised his hand to knock- but upon what? The door before him was one of cloth, not wood. Lowering his fist and feeling more of a fool than ever before, Eragon cleared his throat awkwardly and said "knock, knock."

No answer. He tried again, but slightly louder.

Still nothing…

With a frown, Eragon squeezed his eyes shut and extended his mind in all directions, searching for the bright spark that was Arya's consciousness. Quite by chance, he happened upon one old, sleeping woman who dreamt of her husband and her past home; a horse that shied away from his mental presence with a nervous whinny, and he also stumbled upon Angela.

_She's by the lake on the mountain side,_ the herbalist informed him. Not bothering to ask how Angela knew who he sought, he thanked her and withdrew from her mind.

_Saphira! _He yelled mentally, scanning the skies with his elf-like eyes: he spotted his magnificent dragon just in time to see her do a loop-the-loop and head straight down towards the ground, her neck and tail artfully positioned in a careful dive. Grinning, Eragon ducked his head and sprinted towards the sparring ring that she was fast approaching.

_Where to? _She enquired him as soon as she had landed and he was clambering onto her back, _and don't you wish to use the saddle? You know what happened last time._

_No, no time! To the lake!_

Saphira grunted her amusement and raised her wings; Eragon pressed his face into her scales and clung to her neck, gripping her with his legs as tightly as he could whilst Saphira leapt off the ground. _Don't choke me, _she berated him. He loosened his hold marginally.

A few minutes later, Eragon cried out as Saphira angled suddenly into a sharp dive. The wind bit at his face and he felt himself slip, but Saphira soothed him. _Be calm, little one. I will not let you fall._

They landed a few moments later in the glade that was just a hundred meters or so away from the mountain lake that he and Nasuada had once visited together. Saphira took to the skies once more as soon as Eragon was a safe distance away. He did not questioned her as she flew away from him.

As he walked nervously towards the lake and, hopefully, Arya, Eragon began to question his motives once again. What if she didn't want to see him? What if- and Eragon shook with the thought- she was bathing?! _Maybe I should just call Saphira and wait at the camp, _he decided. He was already turned halfway back towards the way he had come when he stopped in his tracks, spellbound.

Song, beautiful, melodic music drifted through the forest and enticed Eragon through the trees. The song was sung in the Ancient language, and although he did not understand all of it, the haunting melody brought a tear to Eragon's eyes. The hairs on the back of his arms and neck stood up. Arya was singing.

She must have heard him approach from where she stood on the water's edge, but she made no move to turn as Eragon pushed aside the last of the branches that separated the two of them and stepped out into the open air. He never took his eyes from her perfectly still form.

When her song ended, Arya stared out over the water before Eragon spoke. "That was… beautiful. Is there a translation?"

Without introduction, Arya sang:

"_Oh what wonderful treasures laid out for the wise;_

_Richest in value and Glorious in prize,_

_More precious than diamond's on Prince's brow;_

_More wealthy than royalty can bestow."_

Eragon, too, stared at the smooth surface of the dark, deep water. With a sigh, Arya tore her gaze from the lake and faced him.

"Good evening, Shadeslayer."

"And to you, Arya Drottningu."

Arya ambled over to a nearby fallen tree and seated herself gracefully- in this moment, she reminded Eragon more of a princess than ever before. She indicated that he should sit beside her, and he hurried to do so. He tripped over a tree root in the process and fell toward the dry ground; at the last moment, Arya caught him, and for a few moments, Eragon's face was mere centimeters from her own.

Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

**AN: Well, whaddaya think??! Nice little cliffhanger for you to enjoy! (lol.) I WIlL NOT BE CONTINUING THIS STORY UNTIL I HAVE FIFTEEN REVIEWS ON THIS CHAPTER. Don't you just love blackmail?!**

**LoveMuchly,**

**Arya x**


	8. Chapter 8

"Lady Nasuada?" Nasuada turned to face the door of the Aid Tent, where the she was visiting the injured warriors that had fallen during the last few battles. She did this as often as her other duties allowed her to, and often her visits were halted or disturbed by other duties demanding attention- as they were now. The man at the door bowed. "Queen Islazandi seeks an audience with you in your tent immediately."

"Thank you." The man bowed himself out of the tent and Nasuada sighed, smiling apologetically at the soldier she had been conversing with before hurrying out of the tent.

Upon reaching her own tent, Nasuada glanced up at the small mirror that adorned the corner of her bedroom; there, as she had expected, the Queen's image waited. Nasuada curtsied to her, approaching. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

"Un du evarínya ono varda."

Seating herself before the mirror on her wooden arm chair, Nasuada looked up at the elvin Queen with a smile. "You wished to speak with me."

"Yes. I've decided to add another spellcaster to the force that protects you and the Varden."

Nasuada frowned. "I was under the impression that Blodhgarm and the others were doing a fine enough job of that."

The Queen smiled, but it was not an easy smile that graced her beautiful face. "Yes, they are- this is, for once, not a case of protection but superstition. There are thirteen elves among your forces. You may not have been informed, but thirteen is an extremely unlucky number amongst the elves."

Nasuada nodded. "I see… so when can we expect the new addition?"

A strange expression appeared on her correspondent's face for a fleeting second, but Nasuada's sharp eyes caught it; it was one of relief. "Within one week."

Nasuada nodded once more. "Of course. Well, I really must-"

"Of course," the Queen cut her off. "Thank you." And with that, the image on Nasuada's mirror vanished.

The leader of the Varden stayed frozen in her seat for a minute. Something about that had seemed… odd… she shook it off. After all, the elves were always odd…

For a few moments- minutes, really- Eragon was blissfully happy. More happy than he had ever been. Because the woman he had loved for so long, the woman who had lead him so far, was finally right beside him.

Kissing him.

And for a few minutes, Arya, too, was joyfully complete. She ignored the nagging voice at the back of her mind- a voice that sounded uncannily like her mother's- and concentrated on nothing but the Rider before her, and how happy she was. Happier than, although it pained her to admit it, she had ever felt- even during her time with Faolin. She swept aside the guilt that suddenly possessed her.

When the nagging voice's murmurs turned to shrieks, she could no longer ignore it; with a gasp, she pulled her lips from those that belonged to Eragon. He wore a delighted smile upon his face, and it broke her heart to know that she must soon be the one to remove such a decadent smile from his handsome face. She did not have to wait: when he noticed her pained expression, the smile slid away quickly and his expression of elation turned to one of worry, fear and outright confusion.

"Arya?" He asked hesitantly, "is something wrong?"

She wiped the pain from his face- he couldn't be allowed to know how much this hurt her- and closed her eyes. It was easier that way. "_This _is wrong."

He did not speak for a long while, but Arya resisted the urge to open her eyes. She could only guess at the emotions that crossed his elf-like face- hurt, confusion, pain…

"Wrong?" His polite tone made Arya wince; in his voice she found only the slightest hint of pain she had feared.

"Yes." Arya did not bother to replicate the Rider's polite tone- instead, she put no emotion whatsoever into her voice, giving it a flat, dead quality.

"How so?" He used the same polite voice, but this time more anger seeped into it. Although his anger stung Arya like a wasp, it made it easier- somehow- for her to hurt him. It hurt her less.

"Just look at us!" She burst out, and fought to control the self-loathing and pain that made her usually silken voice waver. "An elf and a human- that is not right. You should be with one of your own kind."

"You seem to forget, Arya-elda" –the use of Arya's formal name made her cringe- "but I am no ordinary human. I, unlike others among my race, shall live forever. What use is it if I take a mate that is mortal when she should die so long before I? It would only cause me unnecessary heart ache."

_Barzul, _Arya cursed violently. _He is right, of course… _fishing desperately for arguments, Arya countered him weakly. "You could take another wife when the first had died."

"I am not that sort of man, Arya! You know that."

_Yes, of course… the ever virtuous Eragon. _She did not think it harshly- quite the opposite; this quality had been one she had always admired of Eragon. She pressed on; "I am the only heir to my race's throne. The elves would expect me to take an elvin husband."

This quieted him- as educated as Eragon was, he did not indeed know if this were true. A grim sort of satisfaction swept through Arya when she realized that her victory was near, dulled by the pain that this victory brought her. When Eragon spoke again, he abandoned the polite tone and formalities, allowing his pain to show. "You are the only one I want."

Arya opened her eyes now, her face as cold as she could possibly could arrange it, and her resolve weakened considerably at the sight of the usually strong Rider stood before her with unashamed tears in his eyes. She looked not into those wet-rimmed eyes but at the trees above his head as she rejected him coldly. "Do I have to remind you that it is not the other way around?"

Her words had an immediate effect; Eragon stumbled backwards, and Arya refrained from weeping as the pain on his handsome, elfish face became almost unbearable. Soon, he regained control of his emotions and his face was as unreadable as Arya's.

"Leave."

"Of course."

Eragon turned and walked without hesitating toward the clearing where Saphira was, at that very moment, landing. Arya waited until he had vanished from sight and she saw Saphira flying far above the mountain to collapse upon the ground. She pulled her knees into her chest and hugged them tightly as tears spilled onto her cheeks. She showed no restraint to the emotions that shook her whole frame as she thought, _for you, mother._

_Wiol ono._

**AN: Well, I'm sure you all hate me now. Sorry it took so long. Again, I won't be updating until I receive TWENTY-FIVE reviews! So get reviewing!!**

**LoveMuchly,**

**Arya x**


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

A week passed, but Eragon's mood did not. Most of the time he remained confined to his tent, unless occasion demanded his presence elsewhere; Saphira tried to lure him from his tent with magical words like 'waterfalls' and 'sunsets', and Nasuada- although she understood nothing of his current predicament- enticed him with invitations to parties and dinner for two. He answered questions that were asked of him, and commented on subjects that demanded his attention, but never spoke independently unless circumstance forced him to. Roran visited him occasionally, but for all his courage it terrified him to see his cousin this way. He soon ceased his visits. Eragon did not care.

The only person who did not visit him was Arya.

When Eragon thought of her, it was with confusion and pain; confusion because whenever her name did rise the surface of his mind, his heart still soared when at the same time a hard lump rose in his throat and misery ,twisted uncomfortably in his gut. Pain, because after all they had been through together she still felt the need to reject him so harshly. He thought of her as little as he could, and although he never mentioned the events on the mountain that day to anyone, they seemed to know not to talk of Arya. They spoke to him only when absolutely necessary, and in the quiet, gentle voice that one might use with the sick or dying, never expecting an answer. Again, Eragon did not care.

The only one who did not spare him any sympathies was, oddly, Saphira.

At first, she was gentle and understanding with her Rider, but as time wore on and Eragon's state of mind began to affect her through the mental link they shared she became increasingly frustrated and severed their mental link as often as convenience allowed; it saddened Eragon to see her so upset, for he had never felt so alone, but try as he might he could not summon the effort to really care.

One night, after Nasuada had asked the pair to go scouting- a desperate attempt by the leader of the Varden to bond the dragon and her Rider once more- Eragon took off Saphira's saddle without speaking. She made no effort to speak with him, either. However, when he was walking to his tent, nearly at the door, a large sapphire blue foreleg landed heavily in front of him. He looked up at his glorious dragon, his face a picture of surprise, annoyance, and fear. She spoke sadly. _We must talk, Little one._

A thrill of surprise shot through Eragon's veins at the affectionate term, and he almost smiled- she had not used it for so long. _What of?_

_You know that it pains me to see you like this, and I understand perfectly, of course. However, for the good of all our races, and the sake of the Varden, this cannot continue. You must be strong! You are the last free Rider! _She put her head close to his and gazed at him, trying to speak with her eyes. _Without you, the people are nothing._

Eragon tore his brown eyes from her deep blue ones as they filled with tears. She was right, of course. Ducking around Saphira's leg, he headed into his tent, dropped the saddle unceremoniously on the earth floor and flung himself onto his bed without even bothering to undress. It was as if he had been relieved of a great weight; Eragon rejoiced of his freedom, yet a part of him knew that he still loved Arya. But tonight was not the time to dwell on it- he was tired, the result of a week's restless sleeping.

_Thank you, _he murmured to his dragon.

_Sleep now, Little one, _came the satisfied reply.

His problems could wait until morning. For now, Eragon would sleep.

* * *

Across the camp that was the Varden's current home, Arya stared up at the canvas roof of her tent from where she lay in her bed as tears filled her glistening emerald eyes. It had been seven days.

Seven days since she had rejected Eragon for her mother; seven days since she had last laughed, sung or spoken freely; seven days since she had started crying herself to sleep each night.

Seven days since she had broken her own heart.

_It wasn't my fault, _Arya thought, rolling onto her side as hot tear rolled down her honey coloured cheek. _If my mother had not… _but she could not finish that sentence. She knew her mother had been right. Emotion- love- was weakness. She had done the right thing.

Hadn't she?

With a groan, Arya pummeled her pillow. She couldn't start _that _debate again… not at this time of night. She was shirking her duties as it was… she was meant to be the ambassador, for goodness' sake! No, this… this moodiness must stop now, no matter how she felt. _This is pathetic. I did the right thing!_

But, strangely, that knowledge did not make her fell any better.

With a sigh, Arya pushed her face into her pillow and wished for nothing more than for sleep to take away her pain.

* * *

_They dream._

_They dream of sunshine, of happiness. They dream of laughter and song._

_They dream of a wedding._

_A man- or is it an elf?- waits at an altar, garlanded with sweet smelling roses and other such beautiful flowers. Many people approach the waiting man- presumably the groom- and they talk and laugh. Soon, music begins to play, and for the first time, the man's happy face turns towards where the dreamers watch._

_It is Eragon._

* * *

_Eragon._

_Eragon._

_ERAGON!_

With a yelp, Eragon tumbled out of his bed and onto the floor. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and saw Saphira's head a few feet from him, pushed through his open tent door. _Why did you wake me? _He thought, pushing himself off the floor.

_That was the most peaceful I've seen you in an age, _she commented happily. _I did not wish to wake you, but I thought you should know._

_Know what? _Eragon reached for Brisingr out of habit, fastening the sapphire sword onto his leather belt. Saphira withdrew from his tent awkwardly.

_A new elf is soon to arrive! She will be here in little more than an hour._

_Really? _Exiting the tent, Eragon closed his eyes and let the fresh air wash away his worries. It was as if he had awoken from a deep sleep- everything seemed new and exciting, now. He smiled; Saphira's pleasure filled his mind as she looked upon his happy face. He placed a hand on her scaled shoulder and opened his eyes, gazing into hers. He did not know the words to say, so he told her with his eyes and his emotions.

_I know, little one. I know._

* * *

An hour later, a crowd gathered at the Eastern gate to welcome the new arrival. Excitement and gossip spread like wildfire, and for the first time in a week, Eragon joined the people as they laughed and talked. They greeted him with wonder and happiness. Saphira looked on happily.

After a few minutes of searching, Eragon sought out his cousin. Roran was surrounded by villagers from Carvahall, and they laughed and watched as he spoke animatedly. Katrina stood proudly by his side. Try as he might, Eragon could not force his way through the crowd. Instead, he hovered at the edge of the throng and tried to catch his cousin's eye. When he did, Roran stared into his eyes with unspeakable brotherly love and joy; noticing their entertainer's distraction, the villagers turned to see what occupied him. Gasps and whispers filled the air. Without thinking, Eragon pushed through the crowd and hugged his cousin as tightly as he could. Roran returned the embrace just as fiercely. Emotions and unspeakable words filled the pair. For the first time since Garrow had died, Eragon felt that he really and truly belonged.

"It's stupid, really," commented Eragon on the villager's reaction to his sudden reappearance when he and his cousin broke apart. "I've only been… away for a few days, yet they all react as if I had died and come back to life!"

Roran shook his head. "Aye, but you are a Rider now. We common folk are under the belief that you are immune to everything." Eragon laughed, but Roran watched his cousin closely. "Even heartache."

Eragon stopped laughing, uneasily meeting his cousin's eyes. Roran opened his mouth to speak, but Eragon burst out, "Don't."

Roran closed his mouth and nodded. Eragon would have like to continue their conversation, but at that moment Saphira informed him that the elf was in sight. He grinned apologetically at Roran, who nodded. They hugged again and Eragon darted off to find Saphira.

When he did, he saw that next to her was Nasuada. Going to stand in between the two, he said, "Lady Nightstalker."

Nasuada started- intent on watching the elf on the horizon. "Eragon!" she burst out, and threw her arms around his neck. Eragon returned the embrace awkwardly, a little shocked, and Saphira snickered. He deftly stepped out of the hug. "Hello to you, too." Nasuada smiled, her blush hidden by the dark colour of her skin.

"I missed you," she murmured. Eragon frowned.

"You speak as if I had gone away."

"Well-"

Nasuada stopped speaking as the crowd behind them fell into utter silence. The elf, with incredible speed, was now no more than a minute away. The crowd, hushed with wonder, watched with rounded eyes.

_She's very beautiful, _Eragon noted with a slight shock. Of course, elves were always pleasing to the eye, but the young Rider had never expected to meet a woman- elf or not- as attractive or even more so than Arya. She had long, raven hair which she wore loose around her shoulders. Her brown eyes were the same shade as Eragon's, and were framed with thick lashes. A light flush tainted her honey-coloured cheeks, and her full red lips were curled into a small smile. The men in the crowd had eyes for none but her as she reached the open Gate. Upon catching Eragon's eye, a flash of recognition appeared on her face and she approached him. She wore, as Arya sometimes did, a leaf green tunic and leggings. Upon reaching him, she touched her first two fingers to her lips and said; "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

To which Eragon replied with a small smile, "Atra du evarinya ono varda."

The elf held out her hand in a surprisingly human gesture. Whispers and gasps filled the crowd and Nasuada fumed as Eragon kissed it. The elf smiled and spoke in her native tongue.

"I am Nienna."

* * *

**AN" Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! A huge thank you to all my reviewers, especially Draumr Kodthr (my one hundredth reviewer!) and xLilypadsx for her amazing advice. I love you guys!!**

**REVIEW!**

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	10. Chapter 10

_Last chapter:_

"_I am Nienna." _

Eragon smiled warmly, and the elf returned the expression. Eragon continued to speak in the Ancient language- it pleased him, for some reason. It felt more private, knowing that nobody nearby could understand. "I hope your journey was uneventful?"

Nienna shrugged. "I encountered a few soldiers, but I was able to avoid them. I bring greetings from my Queen- she hopes this message finds you happy."

Eragon frowned at the choice of words. _Shouldn't that be 'well'? _Saphira seconded his confusion. However, before Eragon could say anything their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a quiet cough. Eragon, looking around, saw a smiling Nasuada- yet the smile was obviously strained, and she stared pointedly at Eragon and Nienna's still clasped hands. Eragon went to gently pull away, but Nienna did not release him.

"You must be Nasuada," Nienna spoke in Nasuada and Eragon's tongue now. Nasuada smiled politely. It didn't reach her eyes. "I do most sincerely apologise for this, but my Queen wishes for Eragon to be informed of important issues that concern him. Is there a place where we might speak privately?"

"If these issues concern the Varden, wouldn't it be apt for me to be present also?"

"My Queen's instructions were to speak directly with Eragon, and Eragon only."

Both Nasuada and Nienna still smiled sweetly, but the change in atmosphere was so sudden it was almost visible; the members of the Varden watched in awed silence as their leader sized up the newcomer. Then Nasuada said- a little stiffly: "Of course. However, if any of these messages do concern the Varden, I will expect Eragon to notify me."

Nienna nodded. Her sweet smile never faltered, and neither did she release Eragon's hand. "Of course." Her gaze fell upon one of the guards that stood behind Nasuada, ready to defend their leader at a moments notice. "Ah- would you be so kind as to lead us to a place where we might speak?"

Nasuada stiffened, and the smile slid quickly from her face. The guards looked to Nasuada. "I know nothing of the elves, but in human society we do not order around our superiors guards without permission!"

The Varden watched the scene before them in horror as Nienna's smile grew ever wider. "My _sincere _apologies." She curtsied, and turned to face Eragon. "Perhaps you can take me?"

"Of course," Eragon muttered. He lead Nienna through the crowd by the hand- which she still refused to let go of- and the people remained silent as they parted to let them through. As the pair rounded the corner behind a tent, the last thing Eragon saw of the crowd was Roran and Baldor laughing silently, tears rolling down their faces.

"This will be your tent."

Nienna nodded and pushed aside the cloth door, stepping inside; Eragon took advantage of her distraction to wipe his sweaty palms on his tunic. Laughter erupted from somewhere behind him, and he started. He turned to see Baldor and Roran half concealed behind Eragon's tent, which was nearby, rolling around on the floor with laughter, tears of mirth rolling down their cheeks. They appeared to have followed him here. Eragon made his way back to them, and hissed; "Stop following us like little boys! This is _serious _and _important_!"

His words only made the two laugh harder. He started to run toward them, fists raised, but Nienna called to him. He ignored them when they burst into new peals of laughter and turned to walk into the tent in what he hoped was a dignified manner.

"Sorry about that," he said. She smiled in response, already seated on her bed. She gestured for him to join her, and he did, sitting next to her. Only then did he notice that Saphira had not followed them. _Saphira, where are you?_

The reply was instant. _Remembered me, have you?_ Unmistakable jealousy tainted her voice. Eragon smiled.

_Sorry._

_Hmph._

Pulling his attention, he found Nienna staring intently at him. He blushed, and looked down. "Sorry. Saphira sends her regards."

_Ha! _

Nienna smiled, and turned suddenly business like. Yet again, Eragon was struck by how fast the elves' temperaments changed. "Now," she said, "to business."

Arya awoke with wedding bells ringing in her pointed ears. For a few minutes, she simply lay where she was, perfectly still, staring at the canvas above her head. She knew it would not help her or the elves- least of all the Varden- to stay in bed, dwelling on her strange dream, but she could not force herself to rise. So, instead of getting out of bed and going to meet the Council of Elders as per usual, she

_What could it mean? _She thought, remembering the happiness on Eragon's sunlit face. Happiness she had not seen there in a long, long time… Pleasure filled her as the filled her mind with that image- of Eragon, smiling- and warmth blossomed inside her for the first time in what felt like an age. Even if the image _was _imaginary.

With a jolt, Arya realized that some unknown force was touching her mind- it brushed her consciousness not violently, but… urgently. A little confused, Arya tentatively reached out and recognized Tiama, a young female elf in Blodhgarm's command. She lowered the barriers around her mind, and Tiama rushed to greet her in the ancient language, finishing hurriedly with; _Princess, Nienna is here._

Arya's emerald eyes widened with shock. Nienna was a capricious, cheeky young elf who had served the Queen with her cunning use of magic, fierce tongue and unchallenged use of her blade, Fivain. _What? Why?  
_

_The Queen sent her, Princess Arya. She gave no reason._

Arya nodded absent mindedly before remembering the elf could not see her. _Of course. Where is she now?_

_She and Lord Silverhand entered her tent alone some time ago._

Several emotions swept through the princess- confusion, pain…

Jealousy?

She tried to hide them from the elf, but not quickly enough. Tiama bowed respectfully out of Arya's mind as hastily as she could, and the princess could focus fully on the issue at hand.

_Nienna and Eragon. In a tent._

_Alone!_

Anger filled Arya's mind, obliterating sensible thought. She snatched up her sword and strode out of the tent. The humans she passed fell silent as she walked by.

"…and the poor thing had to be fished out with a net!"

The leaf-green tent filled with the musical tinkling that was Nienna's laugh as Eragon finished his tale. He did not laugh; rather, he grinned and watched her, thinking how alike to Arya she was…

When Nienna stopped laughing, she smiled at him. "Tell me about you, Nienna."

"I serve the Queen. My mother was Kerria, and my father was Galdor. What more do you want to know?"

Eragon frowned. "There is more to a person than that. What do you enjoy? What are your hobbies?"

This time, it was Nienna's turn to frown. "Well-"

At that moment, before she could answer, the cloth door was ripped aside and in it's place stood a very definitely angry Arya. She stood tall and proud, and moved with a grace which Eragon had only ever seen dancers use. He thought, in that moment, that no one could ever be more beautiful.

"Nienna." Arya abandoned the ancient traditional greetings and spoke coldly. Nienna's smile faded swiftly, and she answered just as coldly.

"Arya Drottningu."

Eragon gulped. "I see you two have met."

**AN: Thank you for all the amazing reviews. Any questions?**

**No updates til I get twenty review, dears!!**

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	11. Chapter 11

Arya and Eragon strode out of Nienna's tent- well, Arya did. Eragon followed her, several paces behind. What might once have been a friendly, comfortable silence was now so thick it could be cut with a knife. The meeting in the tent hadn't gone well; after exchanging a few, brief- and exceptionally stiff- words with Nienna, Arya had bowed herself out of the tent with instructions for Eragon to walk with her.

_Having fun? _Saphira asked sarcastically. Eragon scowled and ignored her. His heart was racing at the idea of talking to Arya again- what should he say? What could he say? _You're going to have to talk to her one day, _Saphira reminded him gently. _Why not get it over with now? _

With a sigh, Eragon acknowledged her. _I suppose you're right._

_I always am, _came the reply.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon spoke; "What do you have against Nienna, Drottningu?"

Arya did not turn to face him; instead, she looked down at her feet, giving Eragon the key opportunity to examine her beautiful face. Her emerald eyes were underlined with purple bags, and the light had left them; she looked, for the first time since Eragon had known her, to be the age she claimed to be-over a hundred years old.

"Nienna is… well, she is unpredictable. I shall say no more than that."

Her voice, normally so proud, was perfectly flat. This, unlike any other changes he had seen in Arya, terrified the Rider. _Is she ill? _He wondered, examining her more closely as fear rose in his chest. He frantically replied- anything to hear her voice again. "There must be something," he insisted. A flash of annoyance passed over Arya's face, and he regretted his abruptness instantly. "Sorry," he muttered.

Arya sighed. "It is not your fault, Eragon." Then, as they reached her tent, she turned to face him at last. "None of this is."

Then, as Eragon stared in confusion, the elf ducked into her tent and disappeared into the clothconfines of her leaf-green house.

Nasuada paced. And as she paced, she fumed. How could she handle herself that way in front of everyone? In front of _Eragon?! _She cringed… Behind her, Jormundur drawled on about something useless. She tried to pay attention, but she could only remember how she had behaved… what she had said! How rude she had been…

_Ugh…_

Nasuada groaned, and Jormundur looked at her with wide eyes. She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Jormundur. Could we reconvene another time? I am not quite myself."

Jormundur nodded, and hurried from the tent. When he was gone, Nasuada collapsed into a chair and put her head in her hands. The pacing had made her dizzy, and she couldn't stop going over what she had said… She, the leader of the Varden and the only woman ever to succeed in the Trial of The Long Knives, had _shouted _at a messenger of the Queen Islazanadi! And for what? Nothing.

"My Lady, are you quite alright?"

Nasuada looked up to see Farica, her nurse, standing behind her with a worried expression on her delicate face. Nasuada sighed. "Yes, Farica. I am fine."

Farica relaxed and went back to where she had been waiting. Acting on a mere whim, she called Farica over once more. "Have an invitation sent to Lord Eragon for dinner, please, Farica." At this, the maid frowned and shifted uncomfortably. Nasuada raised her eyebrows. "Well?"

"I do believe that Lord Eragon will be dining with Lady Nienna tonight."

Nasuada froze, and some fire sprung up inside her: not the usual fire that she got when she fought, the sort of bloodthirsty fire that she was so ashamed of, but one ten times greater than that. This was a fire of anger. And if anyone dared to disturb her tonight, there would be hell to pay…

Once inside, Arya rushed to the mirror that adorned her wall. Before she could utter the words of the Ancient language that would allow her to converse with her mother, she paused to let the tears that she had been restraining escape from her lifeless eyes. _I can't keep this up, _the elf thought weakly. Wiping them away with a frustrated moan, she focused on the mirror and spoke the scrying spell she needed. In an instant, she saw her mother, working tirelessly at the desk which had been a gift from her father: he had sung it from the most magnificent tree he could find as a present for her eightieth birthday. Queen Islazanadi looked, for once, all of her many years; dark rings circled her eyes, and she possessed a weariness that Arya had never seen in her mother before. Her anger started to ebb away as she looked on the pitiful sight. But then the Queen's eyes met Arya's and filled with irritation at being disturbed. The anger came rushing back…

"Yes?" The Queen asked, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"You have to ask?" Arya replied just as coldly. The Queen sighed and put down the documents she had being studying just moments before.

"You, I suppose, have a… _problem_ with Nienna?"

"Of course!" Arya slammed her slender hand against the desk that her mirror rested upon in anger. "Do not pretend that your memory is not as good as mine, mother. You remember what she did just as well as I do!"

The Queen regarded her daughter with narrowed eyes. "And this, my daughter, is where you go wrong."

Arya's mouth dropped open slightly, and her emerald eyes widened in shock. "Where _I _go wrong?"

"Yes." Queen Islazanadi clasped her hands upon the wooden desk before her, in a position so regal it would have been easy to assume that she were royalty, even if she did not wear the crown of gold that was traditionally worn by whoever ruled the elves. "You show your anger. You show your weakness."

Arya stared at the mirror for a few moments, then remembered something Rhunon had once said: quoting her directly, Arya said; "Passion is what we live for, mother. Passion is no weakness, and neither is emotion."

This stopped the Queen for a moment, but she changed tack as fast as lightning. "Still, Nienna is your kin, and your fellow fighter! Give her no reason to fight you, instead of your enemies!"

Arya folded her slim arms. "If you accept that emotion is no weakness, then there is no reason for me not to tell Eragon how I feel."

**AN: Just thought I'd give you another cliffie… lol. But seriously, if anyone has any ideas, please share them! That's where I disappeared to: I got writers block… Sorry.**

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	12. Chapter 12

_Last chapter:_

_Arya folded her slim arms. "If you accept that emotion is no weakness, then there is no reason for me not to tell Eragon how I feel."_

The Queen stared at her daughter for a long while, not moving. Arya seized the opportunity to speak again. "Emotion is what we live for, mother. Passion, we need. Will you deny me of those essential things?"

Finally, Islazanadi stirred. Her expression was unreadable as she stared into Arya's eyes. Then; "I'm bringing you home, Arya."

Arya's mouth dropped open for the second time that evening. "_What?"_

"You heard what I said."

For a few moments, Arya simply stared, shocked, but then she rediscovered her anger and her sense, and said; "You can't! You- you can't!"

The Queen's eyebrows rose. "Yes, I can. I am your Queen and your mother, am I not? I hold the power over you actions."

"The Varden needs me, _mother_!"

"I see no reason why another could not take your place. Name an elf that would not leap at the chance! Name an lf who would not obey my instructions to the letter! Name an elf who could not handle themselves just as well as you!" The Queen folded her arms against her chest, daring her daughter to retaliate.

Arya growled out the word, and her slender eyebrows knitted together. "Nienna!"

For a minute, the two women stared into each others eyes- a child's game with an entirely new meaning. In the end, it was the Queen that broke the contact, waving a weary hand. "I have no time for mindless staring contests. I am weary. Contact me when you have regained your control."

Arya glared at her mother before severing the communication entirely. _Well, that went well…_

* * *

Eragon returned to Nienna's tent after walking Arya to hers, her words still ringing in his now pointed ears; _It's not your fault, _she'd said. What wasn't his fault? His love for her? What happened on the mountain? _What?! _Or was she merely trying to spare his feelings? Eragon groaned, causing several men that huddled around a fire nearby to look up in alarm. He ignored them. _I wish the elves weren't all this… unpredictable. It makes them so hard to deal with!_

_You show no aversion to Nienna_, Saphira reminded him stiffly, present at the back of his mind as she always was. Eragon smiled.

_Where are you?_

_Scouting._

_I see… then you will have no objections to my dining with Nienna tonight?_

Saphira grumbled, her distinctive jealousy clear in her mental tone. _Do what you like. You are no concern of mine._

_Oh, but I am, Saphira!_

She withdrew from his mind, retaining a dignified silence. Eragon laughed, causing the men to stare up at him again, but he took no notice. He took this rare moment of free time to delight in the countryside's natural beauty; the evening sky was tinted with a light pink, rippling across the horizon. Skylarks sang joyfully as they flitted across the ocean of air that was their playground. And the mountain… Eragon winced away from the memories that the beautiful sight brought flooding back, then cursed himself with a frown for being so weak. _And I call myself a Rider! Ha!_

With a deep sigh, Eragon ducked into Nienna's tent.

* * *

The pair spent many hours laughing, talking and drinking. Eragon ignored the snide comments of his sapphire dragon as his mind became clouded from the many tankards of mead he had consumed. In the end, she cut him off entirely, maintaining a dignified anger from where she lay across the camp. Eragon did not care.

They spent most of the night exchanging stories of their youth's. Nienna, Eragon was shocked to discover, had not been like other elf children- she, too, had spent much of her time playing practical jokes on her parents and mentors. She was not at all like Arya: a fact in which Eragon reveled, rebelling against his natural attraction to the older elf. He fought with a sort of vindictive pleasure, but could not help his mind wandering back to her... for example, why did she dislike Nienna so much? That thought occupied him for some time, and he could not concentrate on the beautiful elf before him.

"…and when she came back, we—"

"Why does Arya dislike you, Nienna?"

She stared at him, her round eyes even wider in shock. This, clearly, had not been what she was expecting, and she seemed at a loss at how to answer. "I'm sorry?"

"Why does Arya dislike you?" Eragon repeated his question patiently, but his eyes combed the elf's face. She opened her mouth a few times as if to speak, but soon shut it again. After a few minutes of this Eragon sighed and smiled. "It doesn't matter. You do not have to tell me."

"I will, Eragon, but… I cannot find the words."

The Rider smiled, encouraging her silently. She seemed to take courage from it, smiling absently back. "You have, I suppose, heard the tale of the Menoa tree?"

Eragon frowned. "Yes…" Then, when she raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, he continued. His eyebrows furrowed in the effort to remember the tale Arya had told him under the Menoa tree. "Once there lived a woman… Linnëa?" He looked to Nienna to confirmation. She had closed her eyes, but she nodded for him to continue. "Linnëa had grown old without the comfort of a mate or children, nor did she feel the need to seek them out, preferring to occupy herself with the art of singing to plants, of which she was a master. But then, a young man came to her and asked for her love…" Eragon winced.

"She was delighted, and deserted her work and devoted herself to the young man and, for a time, they were happy. But the young man was young, and he began to long for a mate closer to his own age. His eye fell upon a young woman, and he wooed and won her. And for a time, they too were happy. When Linnëa discovered that she had been spurned, scorned, and abandoned, she went mad with grief. The young man had done the worst possible thing; he had given her a taste of the fullness of life, then torn it away with no more thought than a rooster ﬂitting from one hen to the next. She found him with the woman and, in her fury, she stabbed him to death.

"Linnëa knew that what she had done was evil. She also knew that even if she was exonerated of the murder, she could not return to her previ-ous existence. Life had lost all joy for her. So she went to the oldest tree in Du Weldenvarden, pressed herself against it, and sang herself into the tree, abandoning all allegiance to her own race. For three days and three nights she sang, and when she ﬁnished, she had become one with her beloved plants. And through all the millennia since has she kept watch over the forest . . . . Thus was the Menoa tree created."

The Rider looked at his companion, and concentration immediately turned to shock: a single tear rolled down the elf's taught cheek. "Almost."

"Almost?" Eragon frowned. "But I am sure that is what Ar- what I was told."

She sighed, but did not open her eyes as she spoke. "I said almost. Nearly all of the facts are correct… save one. The young man that loved Linnëa… it was not his fault."

Eragon stared at her in disbelief. Even Saphira, listening half heartedly from where she waited, listened more intently now. "Then who is to blame?" Eragon asked, but Nienna did not answer. "Nienna?"

She opened her eyes, with what seemed like a great effort, and they glistened with unshed tears. "He did not woo the woman that Linnëa found him with. _She _convinced _him _to leave his love… she was jealous…"

"How do you know these things, Nienna?" Eragon asked.

"Because I…" she closed her eyes again, and more tears escaped from her honey-coloured eye lids. "I was the woman."

For a few minutes, Eragon stared in shock at the elf. When she finally opened her eyes, it was to the sight of a confused Rider.

"Eragon… no one regrets more than I… I could not just sit back and watch _my sister _love her mate when I had none…"

"Your sister?" Eragon dismissed the point immediately. "You still have not answered my question. _Why does Arya dislike you?"_

Nienna took a deep, shuddering breath before she answered him. "Promise that you will not think ill of me once you know what… horrors I have commited."

"I promise."

The elf woman nodded. "I wooed Linnëa's lover, because I was jealous…" she sighed in defeat, and looked Eragon in the eye.

"I did the same thing to Arya. I stole Faolin from her…"

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUN DUUHHHHHHH!!! Well, tell me what you think, my lovlies! Will not update til I have 25 reviews. Wow… two hundred and something reviews would be AWESOME!! Also, I will be updating my Twilight fic 'D is for decisions' soon, so keep an eye out... and any Host fans, check out my fic 'Too Good To Last' XD.**

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	13. Chapter 13

When she was drugged in captivity- if she had the energy- Arya would dream one of two dreams: the first- if she was lucky- of Eragon. She didn't know of him at the time, but she felt his presence, somehow. In the back of her mind, she'd known that someone was watching her. The second…

A dream of Faolin.

And it was that dream that Arya Drottningu dreamt that night. She dreamt of the night when her world had been so violently, unexpectedly been torn apart, leaving a bleeding hole in her chest where her heart should be.

_Arya works silently at her desk. She has no reason to work, and that is not why she stays here: she's waiting. Faolin hasn't come to visit in days. She's seen him in the corridor, and at council meetings, but he seemed… distant. Guilty, almost. And now, on the eve of their departure with the Dragon's egg, and with the hopes and futures of thousands resting on her shoulders, she needs nothing more than to be with him… to be happy… She pushes her pen away, puts down her scrolls, and stands on stiff legs. Ignoring the protest of her long-inactive limbs- she's been sat at the desk for hours- she stretches, and hurries from her chamber._

_On the way to Faolin's chamber, she reflects on the many happy months they've spent together: him teaching her how to sing the plants and trees into shape, a skill which the Queen had neglected to teach her, deeming it unimportant: her telling him of the stories of her youth, and him listening in disbelief as she told him of her youthful pranks and jokes; and the evenings and nights they'd spent together in their chambers… Arya blushes, although there is no one around to see it. Still, it is a happy blush. She is happy._

_She, the princess of the elves, is in love._

_Oh, the Queen doesn't approve, of course: she assumes that Faolin is distracting Arya from her duties. That may be part of why Arya clings closer to her love: to spite her mother. However, if that is one part, it is a small one. She loves him._

"_Drottningu!" _

_Arya turns to see Amandil, a member of her mother's court, waving at her from down the path she has just walked down. He looks… worried. She smiles. "Amandil. To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

"_I merely wondered, Princess, if you have seen Faolin recently? He did not attend his training this morning," Amandil explains._

_Arya frowns. "Really?" The male elf shakes his head slowly. "That is strange indeed, Amandil-vodhr. I have not seen him in many a day, either."_

_Amandil stares at the beautiful woman before him, a mixture of surprise and worry troubling his normally handsome face. Arya continues._

"_However, I am going now to find him. Would you accompany me?"_

_Amandil nods briefly and the two fall into step with one another. Amandil examines the forest around him, a look of pure wonder on his boyish face, but Arya is much too preoccupied: Where is he? He has not been to training? Why? Many suspicions rage through her overactive mind, yet she pushes them aside. Faolin is her friend. More than her friend. He would not betray her._

_As they approach Faolin's chambers, soft, girlish laughter and deep, manlike chuckles drift towards the pairs ears'. They frown at each other, and Arya pushes the wide door that separates Faolin's rooms from the outside world aside. And suddenly, her world is turned upside down. And behind her, Amandil gasps. And then, she gasps._

"_You!" She screams, pointing. "YOU!"_

Arya sat bolt upright in her bed, gasping, sweat mingling with the salt tears that ran down her face. _Just a dream, _she thought fiercely to herself. _It was nothing but a dream._

But even thinking this, the elf had to admit that it had not been 'just a dream'. That was the night that her life had been ruined. The night she had relived what must have been a thousand times, both in sleep and in consciousness. The night that her happy, smile worn self had become…

This.

She threw the covers from her slender body and padded over to the gilded mirror on her desk. Ignoring the tears and sweat, she examined her pointed face: where once she had seen laugh lines, she saw frown lines. Where what might have been a smile she now sees thin, permanently pursed lips that no longer smiled. And her eyes… she couldn't look at her eyes. The light from them had gone. The sparkling emeralds were flat, green orbs that cried out in desperation. _I wasn't always this way, _Arya thought hopelessly, and forced herself to look again. _Save me!_

But that was what Eragon had been trying to do, she realized. She had been offered a way out of all her pain, all of her misery, and she had ignored it! She had brushed him aside!

But he had been more than an escape route. _I love him, _Arya acknowledged, hating the rush of pain and dull excitement that pierced her defeated mind at those three words. _I love him._

Well, now there was nothing for it. With a sigh, Arya pushed herself out of her tent door and blinked in the darkness. Ignoring the nag of fear that begged for her attention, she took a deep breath and took a single step into the rain. The step fortified her, made her more sure of herself. She took another step. _No turning back now, _she thought grimly. And then she hurried into the darkness, leaving all certainty behind her.

_Last chapter: _"I did the same thing to Arya. I stole Faolin from her…"

Eragon stared at the elf with tears running down her face, sure he had misheard her. "I'm sorry?" He asked, barely managing to scrape little manners from the shocked blot his thoughts had become. Nienna blinked at him.

"I stole Faolin from Arya. I seduced him."

Eragon shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I don't seem to be hearing you correctly. I could have sworn you said-" and then, Nienna watched with unhappy amusement as something slid into place in Eragon's mind. "Oh," he said. "_Oh."_

"Exactly." Nienna started to cry harder than ever, and through his shock Eragon felt a stab of pity. He slowly and hesitantly moved closer to the sobbing elf and put his arm around her. He stiffened when Nienna leaned into him, but she seemed not to notice. Slowly, he relaxed, allowing her to relax into his arms gratefully. She looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, framed by thick, wet eyelashes. Eragon was suddenly stunned by how close her face was to his. "Thank you," she whispered. Then, a flash of confusion crossed her pretty face. "Do you hate me?"

"No!" Eragon laughed, and Nienna smiled happily.

"Thank you," she repeated.

And her face got a little closer to his.

And closer again, until their lips were touching.

Eragon gasped and put his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. The slender elf responded enthusiastically. Then-

"You!" Came an angry voice from outside of the tent. "YOU!"

**AN: Blimey, I'm sorry I left it so long. Anyway…**

**Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you to all of my reviewers, especially my 200****th**** reviewer (!!!!) FinnIrishDancer, who is in love with my story. Oh, and please don't punch a baby, Officer Rabbit… lol.**

**LoveMuchly,**

**Arya x**


	14. Chapter 14

_Eragon?_

Eragon groaned, swatting at thin air with a sleepy frown. "Go 'way," he mumbled through tired lips. Outside, Saphira chuckled her deep, throaty dragon laugh.

_Eragon! Awake!_

Eragon merely turned over, his back to his sapphire dragon, who did not take kindly to being ignored.

_ERAGON!_

With a startled yelp, the young rider clattered onto the grassy floor. He glared sleepily at Saphira's deep blue eye- the only part of her that he could see through the door of his tent, which flapped in the light summer breeze. _Why did you wake me? _He grumbled, but allowed her a small smile: he was pleased that she was speaking to him again after he had ignored her advice the night before. Saphira laughed once again.

_Little one, Arya seeks an audience with you. She waits at the Eastern gate._

_Arya, _Eragon thought, and a thrill of nerves, excitement and fear rushed through him, tying his stomach into a tight knot. _Did she say what she wants?_

Saphira turned her large eye away from him at this, avoiding his gaze. When she answered, it was much too innocently. _No._

Eragon narrowed his eyes and examined her closely. _You're not telling me something, _he concluded.

_Arya wishes to speak with you. You will be late. _With a groan, Eragon pushed himself from the floor and vowed not to let this matter drop. Saphira snorted. She did not pursue the subject after that.

The pair walked in companiable silence to the Eastern Gate, shoulder to shoulder. Eragon's bright mood was tainted only by the thought of having to speak with Arya: furious with himself, he pushed the thought from his mind. He was not a boy anymore; he should be able to control his feelings and do what was best for him and others. Saphira acknowledged his thoughts with a fierce rush of pride.

_You've come far, Little one. _She then showed him several images of the young man; seeing his dragon for the first time, building a fire, training with Brom… the pictures brought a lump to his throat. It was like watching a younger brother that he had lost long ago, and yet not realized it until now.

_I know. _

By then, the pair were within sight of the Eastern Gate. Eragon stopped in his tracks with a sigh. Arya had not yet seen them. He looked up at his dragon, who was looking down at him expectantly. _Goodbye, _he said sadly. She curled her lips in a strange dragon smile and departed. Arya had seen them by now, and was staring hard at Eragon, who sighed again and strode over to her.

"Good day, Eragon," Arya said, slightly stiffly but not coldly. Eragon kept his eyes on the horizon as he answered her.

"Drottningu."

His cool response seemed to displease her: she seemed to deflate, defeated. Out of the corner of his eye Eragon could have sworn he saw a tear glistening in her emerald eye, but when he looked at her it had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. A little puzzled, Eragon spoke. "Saphiraa told me you wished to speak with me?"

Now, it was Arya's turn to look puzzled. "I'm sorry?"

"She said you sought an audience with me."

Arya shook her head. "No, I was told that it was you which sought an audience with me."

Something suddenly clicked into place in Eragon's mind, and he laughed softly. The elf before him watched him in confusion. "What?" she asked. "What is it?"

The rider grinned. "It seems, Lady Arya, that we have been set up."

"I don't-"

Eragon laughed even more as Arya froze and understanding lit her eyes. She joined him in laughter, and Eragon found himself rejoicing in the sound: it seemed to awake him from a deep sleep, lift a heavy weight from his shoulders. When the laughter died down, the silence was no longer uncomfortable. Eragon broke the silence. "So…"

"Indeed."

Arya took a deep breath. "I'm… I am sorry, Eragon. I have behaved most childishly."

Eragon inclined his head. "The sorrow is all mine, Drottningu."

When he straightened up, he saw Arya shaking her head. "No… It is not your fault. Any of it."

"You've said that before, Arya!" Eragon burst out. Arya winced.

"I know. And I'm sorry-"

"Then tell me the truth!"

Arya sighed. "I… I can't."

"Why not?"

The elf shook her head sadly. "I wish I could, Eragon. I wish I could, but…"

"But what? But I'm not an elf? But I would not understand? But I'm just a stupid, worthless human?"

"You are never worthless, Eragon. But I can't tell you. I swore to…"

"Swore to what?" Eragon burst out: he could no longer control himself. Saphira looked on in concern from the depths of his mind, but he brushed her away like a fly mentally, too irritated to give any excuse for his behavior. Arya pulled herself up and looked the man in front of her in the eye.

"That is no concern of yours."

With a growl, Eragon spun on his heel and made to stride away from her, but a slender hand caught his wrist and he found himself face to face with the elf once again. She spoke softly. "And Eragon?"

He gulped. He had not been this close to Arya since… well, since that night on the mountain. "Yes?"

"It would not do you any good to get close to Nienna. Stay away from her."

And then, she was gone.

Eragon sighed, watching her stride away from him. He half hoped that she would look back- she didn't.

_Well, that was nice of you, _Eragon thought sarcastically. Saphira pretended she had not heard him.

_Well? How did it go? _

_Horribly, _Eragon grumbled. He was going to continue, but at that moment he spotted Nienna, who was walking across the clearing with her head down. Blodhgarm was behind her, walking in the opposite direction, but Eragon ignored him. "Nienna!" Her called to her, waving and ignoring Saphira's grumbles in the back of his mind. The elf jumped and faced him. Her nervous expression soon vanished as she saw Eragon walking towards her.

"Eragon!" She smiled, closing the last few feet between them. "How are you?"

"I am fine. I was wondering if you would like to walk with me?"

Nienna's face fell. "I am sorry, Eragon, but I have… personal business to attend to."

"Oh. I see." Eragon paused. "Maybe another time."

"Yes," Nienna smiled. "Another time."

Then, the rider watched as she walked away from him. _Don't trust her, _Saphira thought immediately. _I don't._

_You don't trust any woman I speak to, _Eragon snapped in return.

_I trust Arya, _his dragon replied.

For that, Eragon had no answer.

"_Atra esterní ono thelduin_."

Queen Islazanadi sighed. "_Un du evarínya ono varda_." She was on her way to train, and was not in the mood for intteruptions. _Not now, _her face clearly read. However, the messenger pressed on.

"My Queen, you have a visitor." The Queen frowned, but before she could protest the elf spoke quietly. "She said you would know who she was."

Islazanadi froze. "Ah," she said. The elf nodded, smiling. "Thank you." He nodded, then turned and ran away from her. The Queen wasted no time debating what she had just heard: she turned on her heel and strode- almost ran- in the direction she had come.

"_Atra esterní ono thelduin." _Her visitor said as soon as the Queen entered her tent, breathless.

"_Un du evarínya ono varda_." The Queen seated herself at her desk, clasping her hands together nervously. "What news?"

The woman before her smiled impishly, and the smiled was rich with devilish implications. "The best."

Islazanadi raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes." The elf woman smile grew even more. "Everything is going according to plan."

**AN: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Brilliant reviews, guys- they're like crack to me (lol). They make me feel all warm and fuzzy… Keep at it!**

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	15. Chapter 15

"AAAARGH!"

Eragon sat bolt upright in his bed, spitting out the cold, wet stuff from his mouth. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up to see Roran, grinning down at him evilly. In his hand was a ball of snow.

"NOOOO!" Eragon yelled again, ducking as his cousin aimed and fired. The snowball hit the tent with a dull _flop, _leaving a frosty imprint where Eragon's head had been previously. Before Roran could reach for another missile, Eragon tackled him to the ground. The two cousins wrestled for a minute before giving up, laughing and panting.

"Snow!" Roran gasped, pointing outside of the tent. Eragon shrugged- they had seen snow plenty of times in Carvahall. "In _Surda!" _Roran watched with glee as his cousin's eyes widened in delayed surprise. Snow? In Surda?!

"Really?" Roran nodded. "No!" Eragon pushed his way out of the tent, and gasped: the normally green landscape was dusted with a layer of white frosting, which was slowly building. The people of Surda were blinking worriedly at the flakes from inside their tents- they had never seen snow before, living in such a hot country- whilst the people of Carvahall and recruits from other cold regions were laughing and playing in the snow. Eragon, despite his years, felt the sudden urge to join the small boys in their snowball fights, but resisted it. Instead, he turned to Roran. "How?"

"Saphira," Roran grinned, his eyes on Horst, who had armed himself with snow and was glaring playfully at him. "Nasuada decided that we needed a morale boost."

_It worked, _thought Eragon, watching the children play, the mothers laugh, and the fathers wrestle and play fight. He grinned as he saw Saphira stomping through the snow. _How did you do it? _He asked his sapphire blue dragon in awe.

_I don't know. I have told you, I have no more control over my magic than you do over the King. _

Eragon put his hand on Saphira's shoulder, and looked up at her with a smile. _Thank you._

She smiled in her strange, dragon way in response.

"Eragon!"

_Arya, _Eragon thought with a jolt, and turned eagerly to face her. He was met with a smiling elf- a rare expression for the beautiful princess- which was soon followed by… a faceful of snow.

"Blech!" He yelled, spitting out the icy substance for the second time in no more than five minutes. "What was that for?"

She just laughed, and threw another snowball at him.

"Right," Eragon pretended to scowl at the elf, but was delighted that she was happy again. This carefree, happy elf was less like the Arya he had known and more like the elf she had described to him all those moons ago around a campfire. An elf who would laugh, and dance, and sing.

An elf who could love.

Eragon refused to think about the enigma that was the beautiful woman before him whilst he could be having fun: instead, he reached down and scooped a handful of the snow. He threw it at Arya with a playful grin. She dodged it, and returned the smile, dazzling Eragon easily in the process.

"You'll have to do better than that, Shadeslayer," she called, and leapt away with a glance over her shoulder and a smile. Eragon grabbed some more snow and followed. She lead him away, out of the Eastern gate and through the snowy fields into the nearby woods. There, she turned and launched a hidden snowball at him. It hit him square between the eyes. Whilst Eragon wiped the snow from his face, Arya crowed.

"Right," Eragon growled again, pounding his snow into a ball. Arya scooped up another handful and they started to circle one another, crouched low.

_Eragon? _Saphira's curious voice filled her rider's mind. _What are you doing?_

_Playing, _Eragon replied gleefully. He showed her an image of him and Arya, circling one another as they were doing now. Saphira barely managed to conceal her surprise before she retreated a little from his head, still watching carefully.

Whilst Eragon and his dragon had been talking, the Rider and the elf had grown ever closer to one another. Their faces were nearly touching as they walked in slow circles, each waiting for the other to strike first. _Eragon… _Saphira warned him.

_Don't be such a spoilsport, _Eragon snapped at his dragon, but straightened up with a sigh. "Alright, I give up-" The rest of his sentence was obscured by Arya's soft lips, molding themselves to his. Eragon, this time, was the one to pull away, gasping. Arya smiled guiltily.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, although what for he did not know.

"I'm not," she replied impishly, and kissed him again.

* * *

Nasuada, sat in her large oak throne-like chair, sighed. She knew she really should listen to Jormundur, but she was finding it hard to concentrate. Besides, he was so… uninteresting.

"…and the food supplies are slowly diminishing…"

How could she concentrate when her mind was filled with Eragon? _Eragon _had gone into Nienna's tent for 'dinner', and had not come out again until early morning_ Eragon _had left with Arya this morning, and had not been seen since. _Eragon _had not been seen since…

"…and we really should look at the figures- two recruits since…"

_Eragon, Eragon, Eragon…_

"…we really do need to do something, my lady!"

_Eragon, Eragon…_

"My lady?"

Nasuada blinked. Jormundur was staring down at her worriedly with round, innocent eyes. She sighed again. "I agree, of course." Agree to what?! She hadn't been paying any attention! "And I will certainly give it further attention. I suggest a walk in the clear, snowy air." Jormundur brightened, and began to hastily packed his bags of parchment and scrolls. "_Alone._"

The old man seemed to slump slightly, and his lips formed a childish pout. "Very well." And then he strode out of the tent, his chin high in the air.

_It is no use, _Nasuada realised. _I must speak with him urgently. _

_

* * *

  
_

_Eragon._

_Go away, _Eragon grumbled mentally, pressing himself closer to the beautiful elf whose arms were tight around him. Her lips met his hungrily, like a starving man might attack a loaf of bread. He did not mind, though: he needed this just as much as she seemed to.

_Eragon!_

_Shhhh!!_

_NASUADA IS COMING!_

Eragon pulled away from the elf with a gasp. She did not seem to notice; she kissed his face, his neck, his throat, instead of his lips. It took all of Eragon's mental strength to push her away from him gently. She looked up at him in utter shock. "Nasuada is coming," he whispered to her. She gasped, and ran to hide. He began to follow her, but the elf pushed him back.

"No," she hissed. "She will wish to speak with you."

Eragon groaned, and pressed his lips to hers again desperately. She laughed and pushed him again. "Go!"

"Eragon?"

Nasuada's voice echoed through the trees, and Eragon automatically turned to meet the sound. When he turned back, the elf had gone.

"Eragon?"

"Here, my lady."

Eragon forced a smile as the woman stumbled into the clearing. She smiled widely at him, and approached, standing a little nearer than Eragon- or indeed Arya, concealed in a bush not far away, would have liked.

"Where have you been? We have been looking for you," Nasuada smiled. Was it just Eragon, or was her voice too smooth, her eyes too soft?

"Here," Eragon shrugged and gestured to the clearing in which they stood.

"I see. And will you be joining us again soon?"

"No. I wanted a peaceful, quiet walk in the snow, my lady."

Nasuada nodded. "Good. Well… there was something…"

She looked slightly nervous: Eragon took pity on her and smiled encouragingly. "Something I wished to talk with you about," Nasuada burst out. Arya, hidden in the trees, almost growled.

"Go ahead."

"I… well, it is difficult to explain, I…" the leader of the Varden looked up at the rider in desperation. Eragon smiled again.

"Explain however you can, my lady."

"However… I can?" Nasuada frowned. Eragon nodded. "Well in that case…"

Nasuada took a step toward the rider, freezing both him and the elf in the bushes in shock. The woman before him looked up at him, no longer nervous, with the steel spark of determination in her eyes. "I love you, Eragon," she whispered.

And then she kissed him.


	16. Authors Note IMPORTANT!

**_AN: Y_es, this is an authors note. Please read it, since you've all been begging for the next chapter, and I thought you should have an explanation. So here it is:**

**Things have been... difficult at home. I won't go into details, but it's not great, to be honest. So I've mostly been concentrating on helping my family (minus one, who is an arse [=) to recover, and I haven't been thinking about this story too much. Sorry. I hope to update soon, but my mum needs me. So... see you when I see you! I didn't write this to make you feel bad, guys. I love you all. But I thought you should know. Also, if anyone has any ideas... HELP!! **

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	17. Chapter 16

_Last chapter: Nasuada took a step toward the rider, freezing both him and the elf in the bushes in shock. The woman before him looked up at him, no longer nervous, with the steel spark of determination in her eyes. "I love you, Eragon," she whispered._

_And then she kissed him._

For a few moments, Eragon was completely motionless. His eyes were closed. Nasuada stepped back and watched him with worried eyes. Arya, still concealed in the bush, had turned away: she could not watch. What if he kissed her back? The elf did not think she could have stayed where she was, silent, if that was the case. No, she would sit this out hidden behind the trees.

In the clearing, Eragon slowly opened his heavy-lidded eyes and stared at the leader of the Varden. Nasuada's dark skin barely concealed her blush, but met his gaze with determined eyes. This scene was so reminiscent of the one not too long ago on the mountainside between Arya and Eragon that Eragon had to smile ruefully. Nasuada's heart leapt. _He smiles, _she observed the riders face carefully. _That must be good. _So, tentatively, she stood on her toes again and pressed her lips to his.

"No," Eragon murmured half-heartedly. Nasuada silenced him with another kiss. This time, he pulled away completely, pushing her away with gentle hands. Nasuada blinked owlishly at him. "No," he repeated.

"Why not?" Nasuada demanded childishly, taking his hand. That, too, he gently tugged from her hands.

"This is wrong."

Arya, watching anxiously from her leafy hiding place, winced: that was exactly what she had told Eragon after he had kissed her on the mountainside. The words that had torn out her heart to say…

"What is?" Nasuada frowned. She couldn't have done anything wrong… could she?

"This. Us."

"How so?" The woman demanded: now that she was being rebuked (no matter how gently) her soft, emotional voice had transformed into the businesslike, firm one she normally reserved for business meetings or discussions with Jormundur. The only sign that her heart was breaking was in her slightly wet, desperate eyes.

"Look at us, Nasuada. I am not mortal," he insisted calmly. "If I were to accept you, and we were to… marry"- Nasuada hid the light in her eyes at that word extremely well, Eragon thought- "then I would outlive you by far. It would not be kind."

"I do not care. Eragon! _I love you._"

"Ah, but thereon lies our problem." Eragon smiled sadly. "I do not love you."

For a moment, Nasuada almost forgot to maintain her strict, emotionless composure: Eragon winced internally as she gasped in pain and shock, and her eyes screamed out the sudden breaking of her heart. _I know how you feel, _he murmured. But the lapse was only for a moment, and then the mask was back. It was if it had never gone.

"You don't?"

"No."

The leader of the Varden nodded slowly. "Then I have nothing more to say to you."

Eragon and Arya watched as she turned on her heel and left- Arya, with glee, Eragon with pity and regret. "I'm sorry," Eragon called out to the empty air. "It would not work."

Arya frowned. _But Nasuada is g- _Arya gasped. _He means me, _she realised in horror. She was pinned to the ground, unable to move, as the love of his life strode out into the snow with his handsome head bowed. Then, she fell to the ground and wept.

"Nienna?" Eragon stumbled through the camp blindly, asking anyone he saw. "Have you seen Nienna?"

Most shook their heads (some small children giggled at his seemingly drunken state, but Eragon did not care). However, it was Angela who- yet again- pointed him in the right direction. _Try the sparring ring, _she told him in a slightly bored mental voice. Eragon did not bother to thank her as he turned on his heel and ran to the sparring ring flat out.

When he reached it, he skidded to a halt at the gat and scanned the ground in front of him. He sighed in relief when he spotted Nienna, dueling fiercely with Blodhgarm. As she spotted him, she allowed him a small smile.

Why didn't that smile do the same things to him that Arya's did?

Eragon did not understand: she was as pretty- or maybe more- than Arya, and younger, and more open and happy to have human company. She was, in many ways, better than her senior.

So why on earth couldn't he love her?

_It doesn't matter, _Eragon decided. _I just don't want to be alone._

_You are not alone, _Saphira reminded him. Eragon answered with pure, unspoken gratitude, which she fiercely acknowledged. _Whatever you feel you have to do, _she told him- if a little warily- _I will support you._

_Thank you._

"Eragon?"

Nienna's voice was like music to Eragon's confused ears. He turned in search of her voice, and smiled softly as his eyes were rewarded with her beautiful- confused, but beautiful- face.

"Nienna," he smiled, moving forwards as she did so that they met in the middle. Summoning new found courage, the rider took her hands, pulling her closer to him: the brief look of surprise on Nienna's face was soon exchanged with an equally brief- and a little odd- expression of triumph, that Eragon barely caught before it was again changed to a look of warmth, and happiness. Saphira was worried by the slight look of triumph and debated it in her mind, but Eragon swatted her away. He was vaguely aware of the stares that they were attracting, but he ignored them. Nothing mattered but Arya.

_Nienna, _Saphira prompted him quietly. _You mean to say 'Nienna'._

_Yes, I did, _Eragon snapped. Saphira fell silent.

And as the lips of the elf and the rider touched, Eragon had to admit that she had caught him out: nothing mattered but Arya. So as they kissed, he tried to convince himself that the woman in his arms were the one he loved. Not Nienna. Not Nasuada. Arya.

**AN: I'm sorry it's so crap, but… hey. I did my best. It's my birthday, by the way. This chapter is for whoever invented Converse, because man, they are AWESOME. I got two new pairs- one with the Union Jack and the "Who" logo on, and another that are black, like Doctor Who's. AWESOME.**


	18. Author's note PLEASE read!

**AN: Please, please read this!!**

**As you know, (and probably hate me for), I have not updated in quite a while due to certain circumstances. I am officially discontinuing this story. However, I am currently working on th re-write, which can be seen on my page. It's pretty much the same, but hopefully of better quality and with a better plot! I can't wait to see what you think of it.**

**Love as always,**

**Arya xxxxxxxx**


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